One Last Time
by Mae M.G
Summary: Hermione regrets letting her relationship with Ron perish due to her insecurities so she takes a huge risk by showing him the truth of her feelings in the form of a box. Now that's she's ready to fight for him, is it too late? Will her insecurities get the better of her?
1. I Pandora's Box

**ONE LAST TIME**

 **I. Pandora's Box**

"How can you say that?"

His words pierced through her, sinking deep inside. They soaked like acidic rivulets into her soul. Of course he'd question her. Why wouldn't he question her?

She had all but let what they have disappear. Instead of fighting, she had let them be pulled underneath the weight of the painful silence. They had dug their graves together and she had let them continue to dig deeper until it was much too late. She had predicted the collision and explosion of their relationship.

She remained silent like she always had. She tried to open her mouth to force out everything that she wanted to tell him. She had to! No, she needed to! She may never get a chance like this again. They were face to face without the presence of their companions. She wanted to tell him that she saved every article of wrote about his accomplishments as an Auror. When he decided that he wanted to spend the rest of his days go after something he loved, she had saved all the articles about his successful Quidditch career. She wanted to tell him that she still dreamed about him at night and reached out to him after she would wake up crying from her nightmares only to find he wasn't there. She wanted to tell him that it was then in those moments that she realized how much she needed him.

She wanted him to know how much she meant those words she had just told him: I love you.

Merlin, this should be so easy to say aloud. She had been planning and reciting the exact words she wanted to say if she ever got the chance. She had her chance and she was blowing it. It was when she heard the chuckle coming from Ron that everything froze. The bitterness and coldness that came from the soft rumble told her everything she needed to know.

She was too late. She always too late.

"Hermione, I think you had too much to drink tonight," he said with a sigh. He raked a hand through his red locks. "I think you we should get back inside. I'm certain our dates are missing our company."

When he started to walk towards the Burrow, she watched him turn his back on her. She chewed her bottom lip as she watched him continue to move further away. She supposed it didn't matter now if she revealed everything to him, because it was obvious that he had moved on. He had swept the memories of her and how he ever felt about her away. He had tucked her into a box labeled childhood memories and she was certain that she'd forever remain. No matter if she finally became brave enough to confess her true feelings, it wouldn't matter now.

Her heart clenched and a wave of cold determination steeled her back. If this was the last chance she ever had to purge herself of the things she couldn't say… she would take it. She would take it even if meant nothing to him.

It was important to her. It meant everything to her.

Rushing after him, she followed his footsteps in the snow. His hand touched the doorknob when she grabbed his elbow. She forced him to turn back around. She heard his sigh of frustration. No matter how much this hurt and how much this broke her apart, she would finish what fate allowed to happen. She would cherish it no matter the outcome. She looked up into exhausted blue eyes that used to look down at her in adoration once upon a time. She missed the feeling of warmth that used to wrap around her. She missed it all.

"Hermione-"

The dismissal in his tone wasn't lost on her, but she gave a sharp shake of her head to silence him. Ron took a deep breath then exhaled. She knew she was testing his patience. She quickly reached into the pocket of her coat. She took out a small box from it. She may never find the right words to say when it came to Ron, but the contents in the box revealed everything he needed to know. She enlarged it to the right size.

She placed the ornate box in his hands. His eyes fell to it as a frown crossed his face.

"Liquid courage," she whispered, waiting for him to look from the box to her. "I know it won't mean anything to you now. I just wanted you know the truth."

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. The temptation was too much.

Just one last time, she vowed. Just one last time to show him how much she wanted him and how much she needed him.

It was wrong, but she, for once, didn't bloody care. She leaned up and kissed passionately. She felt his breath hitch in his throat as she swept her tongue desperately into his mouth. She wanted to taste him one last time. Her fingers reached up, tangling her fingers in his red locks. Never had she kissed him so desperate, so needy, and so hopeless. Before he could truly react to the kiss, she pulled away quickly, afraid he wouldn't kiss back. She was too frightened that he'd push away from her in silent rejection.

Oh, how she wished she could just feel one last passionate kiss of his! The ones that floored her and reduced her into a bumbling, awkward, ridiculous, and pathetic mess. But her heart couldn't take it. She could barely take it as it is. She already knew that he had long buried his feelings for her and she wasn't pathetic enough to believe he would kiss her like he wanted her.

Without looking into his eyes, she forced out: "Thank-Thank you, Ronald, for-for everything. I-I love you."

With that, she quickly rushed past him. She twisted the doorknob and hurried inside, seeking refuge in her date's company. Not that she had truly had anything to worry about, because she knew Ron didn't feel anything for her anymore. She had heard from Harry and Ginny that things between Ron and his new girl were becoming serious. Molly seemed to like her. What right did she have to disturb that? She didn't have a right to him at all.

Out of fear and panic of having Ron know everything, she had made quick work of bidding everyone goodbye, faking an upset stomach. She had thought she was going to make it out without crossing paths with Ron again, but luck wasn't on her side. She was embracing Harry when Ron walked through the doorway leading from the kitchen into the living room.

In order for everything to seem fine, she stiffly walked over to Ron. His eyes burned into hers and she swallowed. The knowledge of her feelings for him were reflected in those blue eyes of his and she was afraid. She gave him a small smile as she blew out the same excuse of why her sudden departure. He didn't buy it once and she knew he didn't, but he didn't call her out on it. He pulled her into a half arm embrace. She wondered if this was the way it was going to be now – the awkwardness. As she was about to pull away, he kept her close as he turned his face towards her neck.

"We should talk about this," he whispered in her ear.

She shook her head.

"As you keep saying… it-it's in the past and it should stay in the past, right?"

Before he could respond, she tore herself away from him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. With that, she went to her date, waiting for her at the front door. She walked swiftly across the room calling out her last goodbyes. She glanced over her shoulder and gave a little wave. Her eyes came across Ron and there was a painful stab in her chest as his date curled up into his body. She watched the way Ron's arm automatically circle the blond and she knew it was for the best.

The past is where she belonged now.

* * *

A/N: it's Christmas Eve right now over here in the U.S.! This pairing as you've read is Hermione/Ron. I have always thought that Ron wasn't that great of a fit for Hermione, but I wanted to try something new and maybe convince myself otherwise that the pairing is some kind of wonderful.

 _ **Song Inspirations:**_

 _ **One Last Time by Ariana Grande**_

 _ **Believe by Mumford & Sons**_

 _ **Like I Can by Sam Smith**_

This story isn't a long one and I'm not intending it to become novel-length. I have a large portion of it written, but it still is incomplete. If you like this story and intend to follow along, I'll be updating it every Thursday. Hope you like it!


	2. II Before The Storm

**Happy New Year's Eve! For those that are already in the new year, I'll be joining you in a few hours! What's everyone New Year's resolutions?! Mine is to write more, self publish an ebook of my original work, work on my website ( link in my profile** **) and update my original stories, and complete all my stories on here (even the ones I haven't touched for years).**

* * *

 **ONE LA** **ST TIME**

 **II. Before The Storm**

Loving her came naturally to him. It was like breathing. _In… out…_ His chest rose. The air filled up his lungs then blew out. Just like that. Yes, just like that. Loving her was just exactly like breathing. Natural and absolutely _necessary_. Necessary? Loving her was necessary… necessary to what exactly? Breathing was necessary to live so loving Hermione was necessary to live.

No, no. That's not true. He had lived without Hermione for days now.

He sighed, shaking his head. He growled as he reached for the bottle of firewhiskey upon his nightstand. He glowered at the bottle, realizing what his bushy-haired former girlfriend and supposed best friend had now reduced him to. He took a hearty swig, but he eyed the small amount left within it before polishing it off.

If Hermione was here, she'd chastise him for carelessly drinking away his problems. She never seemed to have a hard time telling him what he was doing wrong. _That_ was definitely something that she had no problem whatsoever doing. What she could never seem to do was _show_ him that she actually wanted him around. Maybe it was the fact that he came on strong that made her uncomfortable.

He couldn't help that he was attracted to her.

Ever since he had seen Viktor bloody Krum's arm around her in all her beauty, he had seen her as a _girl_. Contrary to belief, it wasn't that he didn't actually know she was a girl. It wasn't that he didn't notice the feminine differences in her youthful body. No, it wasn't that he hadn't thought she wasn't worth looking at. So he maybe – just maybe—he didn't quite see her quite yet in the way that he drooled over Fleur and all her outrageously beautiful classmates all those years ago.

He still didn't. He never did. He didn't need to _drool_ over her. Even upon Viktor's arm, there was this innocence within her. There was this untainted and untamed beauty about her that started at the tips of her wild hair and traveled down the length of her body to her toes. She was the conventional beauty – the norm.

She was more than that. That night all those years ago, he realized that he wasn't the only one who had recognized it. She was a spark of fire. She was the distant stars when eyes would look up to go stargazing. The way her eyes changed and shifted when her eyes read word to word. He swore that an absolute masterpiece was being erected in that mind of hers as she retained scholarly wisdom.

She was rare. Bloody hell, she was a rare gem – the diamond in the rough.

And it wasn't until he spotted Viktor noticing her in the hallways of Hogwarts that he felt that something was wrong. When she blushed and giggled in Viktor's presence, he knew then that he lost the most hidden treasure and he still felt that way. Viktor fanned the flames and that little spark of fire burned brighter until everyone saw the beauty that was Hermione Granger – beautiful, brave, clever, and ridiculously intelligent.

When his turn came to nurture her and love her, she didn't lean into his touch like she had with Viktor. She didn't flush with excitement at his touch as she had for him. The cold reality that he could elicit a response other than awkwardness and polite rejection. It was humiliating that she would rather paw through those documents or pages of a new book than want to touch him. He stopped trying after some point in time – not wanting to bother.

He was just so sick of feeling so foolish and humiliated.

His eyes looked over the contents of the ornate box that Hermione had just placed in his hand before she bloody kissed him like her life depended on kissing him. She kissed him like she was begging him to fall in love her for the first time as if he had never said those words to her.

How she kissed him was nothing short of paradise. The feel of her desperation in her movements as her fingers curled in his hair. He bloody finally felt needed, wanted, and desired. Then before he could push it to see if it was all a dream, she had withdrew herself – her passion – her fire – her need – her needy love. He had almost questioned if it happened – that kiss. _Her_ kiss. Too dazed to quite focus on the words that she stumbled over until that 'I-I love you' came out in the most choked up and broken way.

For the first time, he realized that Hermione Granger did indeed love him. She looked so broken, so lost, and so shaken up. He had no problem admitting that he was slow with realizing certain things about his best friend. It was sometimes hard to read her at times when she wasn't riled up with some sort of emotion.

Then the bloody witch left him to open up Pandora's bloody box. His fingers had pushed through the numerous newspaper articles of him and other trinkets until he found the bloody diary that he always saw her writing in. It was then the world became off-kilter. It was getting harder to read as his eyes skimmed through her familiar scrawl. It wasn't until much later on did he realize that Hermione was very much plagued with insecurities of feminine inferiority, her fears of abandonment, and her fears that he would never truly love her. She had really believed that one day he'd wake up and realize that it was just some childhood crush.

He couldn't help but flush at the candid way she penned out her sexual fantasies of him. He knew that she had no idea that he would ever truly read them. Gone was the prim and proper Hermione he had interacted with. In her diary, she confessed that she would often eavesdrop on him after he attempted to engage her in sexual intimacy only to be turned away. She would sit outside of the bathroom and touch herself as he did exactly that to himself. All this time, she wanted him and she was bloody scared that if she gave in that he'd realize she was no good at being 'intimate'. Yes, that was the word that she had said. She was scared if she showed how badly she wanted him and badly she wanted it that he'd look at her differently. She didn't want to be another Lavender to him as she put it.

Groaning, he shut his eyes as he remembered the last snippet of conversation before she ran off to her date.

 _"We should talk about this," he whispered in her ear._

 _She shook her head._

 _"As you keep saying… it-it's in the past and it should stay in the past, right?"_

There was something that haunted him. It was the absolute fear in her eyes – the panic. She was scared of him knowing anything. It was more than that though. It was like it hurt her to know that he knew the truth. She was so quick to let it go now that he knew everything. Did she really that everything she revealed wouldn't change anything?

Bloody hell, it changed everything.

And if she really thought that it was over now, she had another thing coming. Hermione Granger had ruined him for all witches. Now that he knew that he had ruined her for all wizards, he wasn't going to let the best thing in his life let go again… even it was her intent to run away from him.

* * *

She had ignored every letter Ron owled her. Each letter urging her to meet up and _talk_. Each time, she had owled back politely turning him down. It wouldn't be the wisest decision to be in the same room as Ron by herself. Ever since she had revealed everything to him, she couldn't bear to face him. She had wrote down all her anxieties, nightmares, and ugly truths. It made her blush at the thought of him reading the private details of her sexuality.

It was humiliating. This experience wasn't humbling. It was terrifying, because she had exposed herself to the only wizard that she had always wanted. Even at a young age, she knew she harbored feelings for him. She gained pleasure and hope when he seemed to return them in his own way… until everything went downhill.

Sweet Merlin… and the Lavender Brown predicament.

She bit her lip. She was no better than the clingy, lovesick girl. What made her sickened by Lavender and Ron hadn't been the kissing. It had been the fact the bloody girl got to be that way with Ron and he loved it. Lavender was definitely opposite of her. She wasn't blind and it hurt, because she truly realized that she wasn't what he wanted. She always had an inkling. It hurt though to actually know it.

She hated Lavender, because she got to kiss him openly like that. And he kissed back. He-He had bloody kissed her back.

"Are you ready?"

She looked up. She blinked, focusing on Jeremiah. They had been dating for a solid month and half. It was convenient. They matched. Both were ambitious, proper, and intellectual. They had insightful conversations. They went out on dates and they were now talking about becoming more serious. She could take him to bookstores and he would actually want to be there. He would wander off to tap into the books of his interests.

He was unlike Ron.

 _"HHeerrrmiiionnnneee…"_

 _Hermione quirked her eyebrow at Ron's drawn out complaint in the form of her name. Her eyes slid from the page she was reading to the side to meet twinkling blue eyes. Her heart jumped. Sweet Merlin, did her heart actually skip? She hated to fall into clichés especially since she should be livid. They had spent almost an hour in that new Quidditch shop and they had barely been here for ten minutes._

 _Yes, she should be furious with him._

 _"Ronald," she warned. "May I remind you that we spent a long, long time at your shop?"_

 _He sighed. "I know, I know."_

 _When he looked down seemingly ashamed, a smile crossed her face unbeknownst to him. She wanted nothing more to run her fingers through his hair – ruffle his hair fondly. The urge was once not acted upon as she once again returned her gaze to her book. She should've known he wouldn't give as easily. She gasped when he hoisted her over his shoulder and started to carry her out. She thumped on his back and reminded him that she still needed to pay for the book._

 _He let out a dramatic sigh before he moved to the front of the store. Without even putting her down, he shifted around so she was face to face with the store owner. The woman had a smile on her face and was fighting back the obvious desire to laugh as she took the book out of her hand. Before she could apologize, she swung back around as Ron finished the transaction._

 _When her book was bought and paid for, Ron once again turned around and let Hermione grab her bag. Before she could try again to apologize, they were off and she was once again squirming about his shoulder as he moved. He would never know that there was a huge smile on her face._

She shook herself out of the memory. It did her nothing to think back on fond memories. Especially now when she'll have to actually face Ron tonight, because she had promised Harry that she would come out tonight. He was planning something special for Ginny and Hermione had a hunch what may happen tonight. She wanted to be a part of something so wonderful and beautiful that she had to keep reminding herself that.

The fear began to bubble up inside of her as she wondered how Ron would react around her. Jeremiah would serve as a distraction to her forever distraction of life itself. No matter how hard she tried, Ron always seemed to enter in her mind. The comparisons of both Ron and Jeremiah seemed to once again float in. Knowing that Jeremiah was nothing like Ron only made it worse for her, because she still longed for the things Jeremiah lacked.

He didn't have blue eyes that would sparkle mischievously or widen when he didn't quite comprehend the gist. Jeremiah's dark chocolate eyes seemed always calm and collected. He never seemed like he couldn't connect the dots in conversation. They communicated well enough. They were incredibly compatible in a conventional sense.

Sex was a bit… bland. She blamed herself for her lack of experience and interest. Jeremiah promised that it would get better. She was too afraid to confess that everything inside locked up whenever her eyes would look up into brown eyes. That's what it was – brown eyes.

They weren't blue sparkling eyes.

From the times she and Ron had sex, she had been afraid to let loose. She felt awkward. They were awkward together. And she was so, so certain she wasn't going experience much of anything until she looked into those eyes of his. They were clouded over with desire and tenderness. Her entire body flushed and she had reached for him to hold him close as she came apart. It was in that amount that she realized how foolish she was, because Ron hadn't… come apart.

Only she did.

And that thought scared her – maybe she wasn't desirable enough to get him off. In the middle of their first time, she started have a panic attack. It was so humiliating, because Ron never did get off. The moment faded off with him comforting her and promising to take it slower in the future. What he hadn't known was that she was having panic attacks over not pleasing him and not over sexual intimacy.

Well, he hadn't known until that night she had given up her most private and personal thoughts and feelings.

What if she just was bad at sex? What if she was… what did they call it? A cold fish. She hated the feel of pressure when it came to sex. She naively thought sex would be different. For some reason, she thought there would be less mind and more emotion to it, but it was just so mechanical. It wasn't fun or pleasurable like Ginny and her other girl pals confided in her.

That's where her fear became cemented. It's not that sex wasn't fun or pleasurable. It was just that she was really, really bad at it. Nobody knew that this fear tormented her relationships when men. No, that wasn't true anymore and she was going to see him tonight.

"Are you ready?" Jeremiah asked, cutting through her thoughts.

No. Absolutely not. That's exactly what she wanted to say, but she managed to nod her head. Tonight was going to be torture.


	3. III Storm

**Warning: Sexual Content (Rating MA)**

* * *

 **ONE LAST TIME**

 **III. The Storm**

Harry Potter had asked his sister to marry him and Ginny had said yes.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion.

It really was.

He was happy for his best friend and his sister, but he was distracted by the possessive arm wrapped around Hermione's shoulder. The supposed happy couple came into the Burrow hand in hand. He had attempted to reign in his emotions, but it was so difficult with Hermione being so close. She was bloody right there and his eyes feasted upon her with a dangerously untamed hunger.

Deprived of her and his chance to right the situation at hand, it had been madness. His frustration with her stubbornness to pretend like everything was fine between them now was beyond uncontrollable. He was not in a mood for excuses. It had been a month since she had given him that bloody box. If it wasn't for Quidditch, he truly would've been out of his mind by now.

He was waiting for the perfect time to get Hermione alone. The moment came when he spotted her as she disappeared alone to most likely search out the bathroom upstairs. With the celebration in full swing, nobody would miss them while they had it out. He made certain that her date was occupied and engrossed in conversation before he made his move to follow her.

He actually didn't know what to expect. Well, no, he did expect her to run from him and the situation. She didn't disappoint. They had made it all the way upstairs to Charlie and Bill's old room. He had burst through the door she was attempting to close. She stumbled back a bit as he finally had her cornered and he was definitely not letting this opportunity slip away.

"Ron," she had called out to him softly.

The way she had said his name came out as a plea. He had looked straight into her eyes then. For the first time, he had managed to do wandless magic as Charlie and Bill's door swung shut and locked.

He really had meant to corner her and talk to her. However, her words flooded in his mind, his heart, and his soul. The way she was looking at him told him that she was ready to counter anything he said aloud. He recognized the fear and panic in her eyes. Her entire body screamed 'run, run, run!' to him as he took in the tension. He knew that no matter what he said that she wouldn't listen and she wouldn't believe it.

So he did the only thing he knew how to get through to her, he walked across the floorboards and caught the protesting bushy-haired beauty with one arm. With his free hand, he reached up to cup her cheek. His eyes searched her face as her startled eyes looked into his. Unshed tears brimmed her eyes. She was trembling. Chewing her bottom lip as a few teardrops spilled out the corners of her eyes. When she attempted to hide her face, he let his hand slip into her hair, swooping in to capture her mouth with his.

It had meant to be a kiss. Just a kiss.

But it wasn't just a kiss. It was an explosion. It was a bloody wildfire. Something that refused to be tamed roared to life in the ashes of polite pleasantries rose like a bloody phoenix. Merlin, did the flames catch fire!

When she finally gave into it, he didn't feel an ounce of guilt for the date she brought to his family's home. She was where she should be – with him and only him.

* * *

He was on her like a starved animal and she was their first meal. Merlin, his hands, his body, and his mouth were all over her. He was leaving and keeping her absolutely breathless.

And keeping her mindless.

Sweet Merlin, it didn't even matter if her hands and her own mouth was uncertain in making designs on him. He just picked up where she left off in her movements. Whatever she lacked, he gladly matched.

She couldn't think. She still couldn't think. All she could feel was the fires building up within her. There was one sizzling at her feet, one bubbling in the pit of belly, and one that burned from her chest up. All of them threatened to catch, explode, and burn everything to the ground.

A sharp pang of fear doused her and it attempted to cool the heat.

"Ron, wait," she begged, placing her hands on his chest. Her breath came out in pants then hitched as teeth nibbled up the column of her throat. "Ron, there… there are p-people waiting for…"

She trailed off as he continued to kiss a path from her neck up to her mouth. Between kisses, he murmured out a question, "Do you really care about people waiting for us downstairs?"

Before she could form words, the redhead devilishly pressed himself against her so she feel him through his slacks. She bit her lip as he grabbed one of her hands still on his chest. She flushed as he dragged her hand palm-flat against him, letting him control the descent down his body. Her eyes flicked to his sparkling, mischievous sapphire eyes as he wrapped her fingers around his thickness.

She quickly averted her eyes and Ron chuckled.

"See what you do to me, love?" he whispered in her ear.

"Bloody hell, Ron," she gasped, shaking her head. "This-This is… it's madness!"

His tongue flicked out, teasing her earlobe. She sucked in a breath. Her hand tightened around him and his own reaction sent tremors right through her. He tensed, hissing at the movement. Feeling empowered, she let her hand slide lightly up his length.

"Bollocks," he bite out through gritted teeth.

She had never felt so… wicked… and slightly in control. She swept her hand down his length and was rewarded with Ron leaning his head against her neck. His quickened breath and his incoherent pleading caused her to firmly curl her fingers around him.

"Do-Do you like this?" she tested out her voice as she did an experimental tug.

Those sapphires peered at her through heavy eyelids. "I swear," he groaned, shaking his head. "You're such a tease and you're so bloody oblivious to it. It just kills me."

"I'm a tease?" she chuckled.

He nodded, brushing her hands aside. "You want to see what you do to me?"

Even though the question remained unanswered, Rob began to unbutton his pants. Hermione's eyes widened when she watched him unzip his pants and tug them apart slightly. Her heartbeat thumped in her chest, echoing in her brain. She could see the hardened outline of him in those cotton briefs. She chewed her bottom lip as he let his hand reach down into the clingy confinement to touch himself. Though she couldn't really see him touching himself due to his underwear, she could definitely see the outline and the movement against the fabric.

"This," he groaned, tugging at himself. "Is what you reduced me to every time you turned me away." His eyes opened and they burned into hers. "This is what you couldn't see behind the bathroom door… when you touched yourself." He shook his head, continuing his own self-indulgence. His eyes shut again. "Did you bloody know every time I touched myself like this since you gave me that damn box that I think of you touching yourself? You touching yourself. You getting off to hearing me get off. Merlin, it gets me every time-"

"Ron," she whimpered.

Once again, his eyes opened. "You want to touch me?" Her eyes widened. "C'mere love, I know you do. You've been a naughty girl just standing and watching like you usually do." His eyes flashed, reaching out to her with his free hand. "Hermione," he called out. "Get your know-it-all butt over here and let me educate you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that and she was met with a smirk on his face. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she let her hand fall into his and allowed herself to be pulled over.

"I'm not a know-"

He silenced her with a heated kiss. When their tongues danced together in her mouth, she felt Ron slide her hand underneath his briefs. She gasped into the kiss when her hand curled around his hot flesh. Before she could think to pull away or protest, he continued to kiss her into oblivion. The way his mouth moved over hers and his tongue darted out to slip against hers. She groaned at the feel of his thumb sweeping over the sensitive center of her left breast. She could feel his body pushing against hers until the back of her legs hit a barrier.

Once again, she didn't react to the abrupt fall backwards unto softness… a mattress, probably. The entire time her hand clung to the most intimate part of the wizard she loved. Her hand skimmed over the flesh before she allowed herself to indulge in a couple tugs. Heat flared within her again when he growled low his throat as he placed a hand over hers. She looked up into those blue eyes and her heart jumped. It looked like he was trying not to fall apart as the vibration of his shudder swept over her.

"Easy, Love," he chuckled, taking deep breaths. "This is going to end before anything can start."

Hermione's breath hitched at that. She loved hearing just that. Her eyes narrowed, peering down at their adjoined hands surrounding heated flesh pulsing and twitching in her hand. Sweet Merlin, he really was that close?

She bit her lip as she assessed the wizard. His body was taught. His muscles contacted every slightest touch and movement. His breaths came out in pants, fanning her face. She wanted to see him fall apart like she had. She wanted him to tumble over the edge. If he really was that close…

She stroked him upwards and Ron grunted as he instantly tightened his grip on her hand.

"Hermione," he choked out. "Please…" She heard him groan when she continued to stroke him, trailing off from his plea. "Bloody hell, Hermione. I can't hold on if you—"

Her eyes were instantly on his as she boldly interrupted him. "I don't want you too. I want you to get off right now." Ron's dazed blue eyes focused on her for a moment. "I want you to get off because of me."

There was just silence for a moment. Two pairs of eyes gazed at each other before blue eyes slid shut momentarily. He nodded his head, letting his hand fall away from hers. She once again stroked him up and down, drawing out a groan. Feeling eager for results, she developed a rhythm and the sounds she had grown accustomed to behind closed doors were music to her ears. His body started to spasm slightly and she heard a string of curses that dissolved into incoherent murmurs when he pressed his face into her neck. His hands fisted into the bedsheets as his body rutted against her before he completely tensed. His back curved with his hips shifting forward as he muffled a shout of her name in her neck.

Hermione jolted a bit underneath Ron as she felt wetness spill over her hand and spurt on both herself and Ron. Her hand stilled upon him, letting him empty himself between them. When he finally released a breath and his body went slack, she let out a breath that she never knew she was holding.

Nibbling the bottom of her lip, she waited until Ron fell to the side of her. Her eyes stayed upon him until those blue eyes of his opened finally. The moment they did, the bittersweet pleasure of accomplishment filled her.

"So I did okay?" she squeaked out.

He broke into a smile, shaking his head at her antics. "You did more than okay."

"Are-Are you certain?" she asked, sitting up then and crossing her legs. "Or are you just—"

He had reached up and pulled her down slightly to silence her with a kiss. "I'm quite certain we are covered in the evidence of how well you did."

She flushed at that observation. Her gaze dropped to her soiled garment and slick hand. She had really gotten Ron off. She had made him come undone. Like everything that had ever interested her scholarly, she wanted to learn him and feel him out. This new sense of progress and hope blossomed in her chest until it all came crashing down.

Jeremiah.

Sweet Merlin, Ron had a serious girlfriend. How could she have been so bloody stupid?

"I'm so stupid," she gasped. "I'm taken. You're taken. We are both bloody taken." She quickly darted off the bed, wandlessly cleaning up the mess. "This-This wasn't supposed happen!"

As she made for the door, she felt herself being yanked back around. Stormy blue eyes burned into her eyes.

"You can't just pretend that just didn't happen," he told her. "You can't tell me that you didn't just jerk me off in my brothers' room on Charlie's old bed. Tell me, Hermione. When your hand was wrapped around me, were you thinking of him?"

"R-Ron—"

"When I kissed you and you kissed me back, were you thinking of him?"

"It's not that simple, Ron," she said softly. Her eyes still on his. "I've dreamed of this. You know I have. I had hoped to have… have pleased you like that for such a long time, but you know that if it hadn't been for that box, you would have barely given me a single glance. I shouldn't have given it to you. I just wanted you to know that it hadn't been one-sided." She took a deep breath. "You let go long before me. I needed closure and I thank you for giving that to me."

Bowing her head, she started to walk away.

"Hermione, this is far from over," he told her, causing her to freeze. "Did you really think this was about closure? Did you really think this was goodbye?"

"I-I can't just drop everything, Ronald Weasley!" she gasped in frustration… and maybe in panic and fear. "Life doesn't work like that. Life isn't some cheesy romance novel. It doesn't always have a happy ending. Life doesn't guarantee happy endings! Just because the leading male in the story decides that damsel in distress is someone worth fighting for and saving, it bloody doesn't mean that it'll all work out in the end. It-It doesn't mean he'll actually stick around after the dust has settled and life kicks in."

Tears filled her eyes as she stared into softening blue eyes. It was then that she realized that she revealed too much of the fears bubbling to the surface and churning. She swallowed the lump in her throat, letting her eyes drop from his. There was too much in those eyes. The newly rekindled fire burned brightly in them. As much as it thrilled her and as much as she wanted to throw caution to wind, it wasn't in her or her personality to take a blind leap of faith that everything would turn out for the best.

Not when it had ended so badly in the past. Not when she could barely express to him how she truly felt… and it took a box and a book of her written thoughts to convince him that she did indeed love him.

That had been a risk – a painful and humiliating risk.

It wasn't that she hadn't taken risks in the past, but she hated chaos. Merlin, she hated drama. Ron and her were all sorts of chaos and drama. Ever since she had met him all those years ago, they always had heated exchanges over meaningless things… and meaningful things. They had opposite opinions and viewpoints. They clashed. But for some reason, they always seemed to make it through and remain best friends.

Friendship - or rather love of a friend – was different from romantic love. Romantic love was different from lust. Where she loved Ron, he only lusted after her. Once this infatuation with her cooled down as she expected it would, he dispose of her and move on like he had before she bared her soul to him. Her intentions had been selfish. She wanted him to understand, to come back, and to love her again, but it was just so selfish.

This was selfish.

It did exactly what she wanted. It brought him back momentarily in the heat of the moment. It brought him to her, but she knew that her confessions would only bring him back. They wouldn't actually keep him and she knew what it felt like to lose him. She knew the pain and the heartbreak. She knew for a bloody fact that she would never be able to survive it again losing him.

Ron was fairly an impulsive, impressionable, and passionate man. He deserved an equally suitable witch not a 'stuffy, bossy know-it-all bookworm with a stick up her bottom' as he would often refer to her in frustration or irritation. Jeremiah suited her certainly and bored her as well, she hated to admit, but he didn't have to know that. She often wondered if her boredom was reminiscent to how Ron saw her, which led to another fear of hers.

"Hermione?"

Hermione's heart lurched. Her eyes fluttered, breaking out of her trance. She licked her lips nervously as she took inventory of the wizard in front of her. All these fears that she had of not being good enough, Ron now knew and that infuriated her. It also brought a new fear to the forefront that the only reason he came back was because he felt sorry for her.

"I-I can't do this again," she stammered out. It came out as a plea and Ron's eyes snapped to hers. "I can't handle it. I won't be able to handle it." She shook her head and shivered. "I know it so I can't."

He reached out and cupped her cheek. "Hermione, what's going on in your mind?"

"That I'll always be that girl you made fun in First Year and befriended out of guilt."

Startled, his eyes widened at that and his mouth dropped open. Without giving him time to process that information, she darted by him and rushed out of the room.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **To The Readers & Followers: Thank you so much for the follows and the kind words. I'm glad you like this story thus far and I hope you continue on for the ride. I'd like to thank you for not trashing this story even if you don't agree with the character development or the storyline. It means a lot that you're giving it a shot. **

**Unfortunately, with every writer, they will get negative feedback from readers. I gotten my fair share through my entire time writing fanfiction here and I've brushed it off the best I can. I know a lot of fellow writers go through the same things that I do. Some of them rant and some of them don't. They stomach it and let it go. I can't this time and it helped me realize a few things. This will be my last new story. I will be completing ALL the fanfics under my name in due time, but I won't be producing anything new after this story. Once all the fanfics are done, my time here as a fanfic writer will be done.**

 **To The Anonymous Reviewer Who Was Disgusted With This Fanfic: Thank you for helping me realign my priorities and my writing goals. Thank you for being my FIRST review for 2016 and I thank you for your criticism.**

 **First, I'd like to confess that MOST of my interpretations of the Harry Potter characters are a bit OOC, because I believe the realistically people aren't going to stay the same as they were after conflict, age, tragedy, war, and death have happened. I draw upon real life experience to know that the person I was a decade ago, five years ago, and even just a year ago is different from who I am now. I believe this applies to everyone including characters in a novel. This is why this version of Hermione is usually present in my stories. It's not that I don't think she's strong, courageous, or any of that, but I'd like to think that she's human and not superhuman. I'd like to believe that all the characters are dealing with their own issues and conflicts due to the hand they were dealt with.**

 **Secondly, as much as I'd like to rant about how you didn't have to waste your time and read my fanfic, I'd actually like to thank you. It made me realize that I don't write for readers like you. I write for myself and I write for the readers out there that are fans of my work, fans of this story, and fans of my interpretation. I'd like to thank you, because I've come to terms with ending my travels with writing fanfiction AFTER I complete all of the fanfics currently in my account.**


	4. IV The Eye Of The Storm

**One Last Time**

 **IV. The Eye Of The Storm**

He had lost the love of his life to her own bloody insecurities. The daft bird could drive him to drink. So it really shouldn't be a surprise that he was currently drowning himself into alcoholic grave.

Ron glared down at his cup. He hated how she could get underneath his skin. He hated her more now for bloody running away. Hermione never run away from anyone except him apparently. Lucky him! He hated himself for being the exception.

"A Knut for your thoughts?"

The voice floated into his mind effectively stunning the self-loathing, but he knew that voice. How in the world did he know that voice? He lifted his head and didn't even attempt to hide his groan when the image of his recent former flame, Mia, burned into his mind. Bollocks! Bollocks! Blimey, he had the worst luck of late.

He sighed, taking in the blond beauty. She looked stunning as ever in that tight little number. Her waves of gold, not frizzy or dark like another dame he knew, cascaded down her back and her chest. He swallowed, forcing his eyes to breakaway from her nicely rounded curves of her chest.

"Bollocks," he finally grumbled. "I have no luck whatsoever." He shook his head, grabbing his cup and taking a huge gulp. "You're looking well, Mia."

Mia broke into a smile. It was obvious she was trying not to laugh at his expense, but he could clearly see the pleasure she got from his predicament.

"I'm doing fairly well," she admitted with a chuckle as she took a seat on the stool next to his at the bar. "You don't seem at all happy to see me."

"I honestly didn't think you'd want to see me after everything."

For a moment, sadness crept into those sparkling sea green eyes. Ron bit his lip, knowing how much he had hurt her. He regretted causing her pain since she was the first ray of light after such a dark time in his life. After the failure with his relationship with Hermione, he knew she was indeed special to him the moment she made him smile and definitely when she made him laugh.

"Well, I wasn't particularly happy about being dumped," she confessed softly. "Especially for her." She sighed, raking a hand through her golden locks. "You forget I was there trying to get you out of the same dark spot you got back into right now."

He groaned, taking another swig of his drink. "I know. You don't have to tell me, Mia. I know."

"I-I just don't like seeing you hurt. She may be incredibly intelligent and bright and all that, but if she treats you like this, I could care less about her merits and what she's done."

"Mia, I knew full well the consequences going in if she didn't choose me over him," he told her gently, not wanting to see the hurt in her eyes. "I knew what I could be losing in the process."

"And you still ended things with us."

He nodded. "Even knowing it could end this way… yes, I did. It wasn't right to you. I couldn't ask you to wait so I can figure things out."

"I would have waited."

"I know," he murmured, finally turning to her. "That's why I did what I did. You're too good for me, Sweetheart. You deserve to be cherished and loved not wait around for it."

She chewed her bottom lip. He watched as several tears slipped out of the corner of her eyes. He swallowed as his chest tightened. He hadn't wanted to see her cry. He didn't want to see her hurt. He didn't want to be the cause of it. He reached out then cupping the side of her face. Using his thumb, he brushed away her tears.

She gazed into his eyes and sighed. "She doesn't deserve you, you know that?"

A smile touched the corners of his mouth. "You've got that backwards, Sweetheart. You really do. I know who she is, what she's done for me, for Harry, for the world… and how I failed to see her pain."

"It still doesn't give her the right break your heart the way she has," she shot back vehemently.

She bowed her head, letting her curtain of golden waves fall into her face. He lifted her face then and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her mouth. This kiss was emotional but chaste. When he pulled away, she gazed deep into his eyes.

"I wish you didn't fall in love with her first," she whispered. "It's difficult to not fall for you."

Ron chuckled. "Believe it or not, I used to be bloody dense with women. I still am."

"To me, you're not so bad."

Something inside of him broke then. If it hadn't been for Hermione, he could definitely see himself falling in love with her. He had been on his way too. He had finally believed he had moved on from his childhood best friend and things had started to take a serious turn with Mia. She was beautiful, loved Quidditch, loved to travel, and loved to laugh. She loved making him feel happy. They had fun together. He could see himself having a future together with her. After Quidditch, he could see them settling down together and having a family.

He swore because he was finally happy and at peace that Hermione just had to come barreling back in with that bloody box. She just had to change everything and he was now here trying to explain to the woman that he once saw a future with why he was a sodding prick. Just another reason to hate himself and Hermione for.

"I've told you this before," Mia's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "You don't have to live like this, you know? I gave you the choice and I'm giving it to you now again. You can choose to remain like this or you can choose to move on and be happy again." She put a hand over his still cupping her face. She grabbed his hand, placing a kiss on the inside of it. "Either way, walk me home, okay? I think you've done plenty of wallowing tonight."

Ron sucked in a breath, glancing over at the cup sitting there in front at the bar. He held his breath for a moment and then nodded. He looked back over at Mia, gazing into her eyes. Was it really that simple?

He bit the inside of his mouth. He leaned forward then and kissed her passionately. He pulled back a little bit, panting against her soft lips.

"I can't give you any promises, Mia."

She chuckled, lightly kissing his mouth. "I don't want promises, Ron. I want you to make a choice." She jumped off her stool and offered him her hand. "Walk me home. Just walk me home. At the end of it, we will see if it's to a new beginning or to say goodbye one last time."

Her sea green eyes sparkled in the dim lights of the establishment. His heart raced as he took get offered her offered hand. A smile crossed her face before she turned and started to pull him out of the bar.

* * *

She should not have come. She shouldn't have let Ginny's words take root within her. She shouldn't have let them sink into her mind and bloody mess with her brain. Logically, she had known this to be a completely reckless, but she had followed her bloody heart for once.

Now she was in Ron's bloody flat trashing everything with tears streaming down her face right in front of the only man she ever loved.

"Hermione?" he gasped. "What in the bloody hell—"

"You're a bloody liar!" she screamed out before she could stop herself. "You are a loathsome, wicked, poor excuse for a bloody wizard! I hate you, Ronald Weasley! I bloody hate you with every fiber of my being! I will never forgive you ever for deceiving me, for making me love you, and bloody ruining me for all wizards and men!"

Before it came to this exact moment of her screaming at Ron, she had attended a nice get together with Harry and Ginny. In fact, earlier this evening, she had been Jeremiah's logical, collected, and composed girlfriend. They had accepted an invite from the couple after she got confirmation that Ron wouldn't be there.

Harry had told her that Ron had a Quidditch game and would be going out after either to celebrate or wallow depending on the result. With that in the clear, Hermione had tried to act accordingly. It was hard knowing that Ron lived down the hallway in a flat in the same building. Not that it mattered since he was out, but just knowing that there was a possibility their paths could cross made her nervous.

When the men decided to talk Wizarding politics, Hermione had bowed out and followed Ginny into the kitchen. After scaring the redhead, they fell into conversation over tea. It was during that bloody conversation that she had an epiphany.

 _"It's very strange," Ginny told her, pausing a moment to take a sip of her tea. "After seeing you with Ron all this time, it's so hard to see you with someone else."_

 _The redhead gazed over her cup of tea at her and Hermione couldn't help but feel like she was being inspected. Bright brown eyes shimmered underneath her narrowed stare. The way she nibbled on her bottom lip as she continued to study her made Hermione uncomfortable and nervous._

 _"I really thought you two would end up together," she confessed slowly as if she was being careful with her wording. "Even now, when you two are clearly apart, I feel like somehow you'll end up together."_

 _Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. "Wishful thinking."_

 _"I used to think that way too… you know, about Harry. I thought that it was impossible for Harry and I to end up together."_

 _"What changed?"_

 _Just like before, Ginny continued to stare at Hermione, letting silence drift between them like a rift. The intensity in the redhead's gaze made Hermione more than just a bit uncomfortable. It was like dissecting her. Even though Hermione was a creature of research and analyzation, she didn't like the feeling as though she was on display._

 _A flippant smile crossed the redhead's face, reminding her that was indeed Ron's sister and that the younger was definitely a Weasley._

 _"I started realizing that it didn't matter if people thought Harry and I were a good match," Ginny told her. "I started looking at it as how much he truly means to me, what I mean to him, and if I could honestly live without him."_

 _Hermione opened her mouth to protest that she had indeed lived without Ron for a bit of time now, but Ginny fixed her with a look that silenced her.._

 _"I mean really live," Ginny emphasized, giving her a knowing look. "I could survive without him… but live without him knowing the way he feels and how I feel. They've always said love is self-sacrificing and whatnot, but it is equally and mutually selfish. I started to realize it was okay to be selfish about loving Harry, because I was being true with myself. I can't be anybody but myself. Loving Harry and being with Harry is being true to myself." She glanced away a moment, looking down at her cup of tea. She smiled to herself then before a determined look crossed her face. "So the entire Wizarding world can bloody sod off. I'm going to fight for Harry, because he's worth it. I'm going going to fight for myself, because I'm worth it and Harry believes I'm worth it. I'm going to fight for us, because we both deserve happiness. I'd rather be selfish than… keep hurting myself and him."_

 _Ginny fell silent then. It was in that silence that Hermione mulled over the redhead's words. She barely registered that Ginny had patted her hand comfortingly before she cleared away her own cup. Hermione looked down at her cup of tea. It was half full as she absentmindedly stirred the slice of lemon, flipping it in the lukewarm liquid._

 _She heard Ginny chuckle and her eyes snapped up to meet hers._

 _"You could look at life just like that," the redhead said as her eyes pointed to her tea. "That cup is half full or half empty. You choose to live your life with emptiness of the things you think you can't have or you can choose to enjoy life with the fullness of the desires you have. You can't make everyone happy and that's the bitterness of it – the halfness of it." A smirk tipped the corner of her mouth. "So decide before things are decided for you."_

With that, the redhead gave her another pat on the hand before spiriting off to sit dutifully by Harry. Hermione watched the couple and watched how Harry lovingly gazed at her. She knew a time when Ginny was the only thing Harry ever wanted, but he couldn't have her because the future was so unclear. It made him miserable and it hurt seeing him like that. However, the moment that the redhead waltzed right back into his life again, it was easy to see that life, no matter how difficult it was for him, was much, much brighter.

Hermione glanced over at her boyfriend and thought of the things he lacked. A huge thing he lacked was the surname Weasley, red hair, and blue eyes. She chewed her bottom lip. He lacked the naivety, the foolish immaturity, and the hopelessness. His eyes were too clear and too sharp. He lacked her love. That is when she realized that the Wizarding world approved of their relationship, because it was logical and it made sense. Ron and her didn't make sense, but it never mattered to her in the beginning. It definitely didn't matter to Ron. It just mattered if she cared.

Ginny's little talk brought out a desperation in her. Was it too late to act? Had he finally given up on her after that night Harry proposed to his little sister? He hadn't sent one letter to her. He hadn't attempted to swing by her place. He hadn't tried to convince her otherwise, but Hermione realized that it didn't matter.

She needed to fight for him.

She needed him.

That's why she sat down Jeremiah and told him that she couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't pretend that she had feelings for him and it wasn't fair of her to prolong the inevitable. When Jeremiah had left defeated and stoic, she had set out to find Ron only to find him sharing kisses with his ex-girlfriend.

She had eavesdropped on their conversation. She had watched Ron kiss her passionately and leave with her. Just like she in Sixth Year, something in her snapped. Why was it always the wrong timing? Why did it always have to hurt this bad? Why did she always arrive when the bloody door of opportunity was closing shut?

It was Lavender Brown all over again and Hermione was the ugly, dull other girl with her books and her brain to keep her comfort.

Just like she had sent birds at his head, she had found herself at his flat. She knew how to get in, because he always allowed her in. That was his problem, she supposed as her brain stopped working. She just wanted to destroy everything. She wanted him to know that she had been there and she knew that she was no match now for the blond. She was everything that she was too afraid to be for him and she bloody deserved him.

She really did, but she didn't care anymore of fairness. She didn't care anymore of who was more deserving. She just didn't care. When ripping all his clothes to shreds didn't suffice, the power building up within her just blasted out and left the flat in tatters. A sick satisfaction settled over her as she regarded the once livable conditions of the flat and she burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter.

What she hadn't expected was Ron to rush through the tattered remains of his doorway. She hadn't counted on him seeing as she was – out of control and in pain. So she lashed out at him, screaming at him like some crazed banshee.

* * *

 **A/N The next installment is the last part! Thank you for the kind reviews and the follows! :)**


	5. V Crescendo

**I know this is... incredibly late. Unfortunately, life got a bit busy, which means less time to write.**

 **Song Inspiration: Stone Cold by Demi Lovato and Call Your Name by Daughtry**

* * *

 **One Last Time**

 **V. Crescendo**

Ron had been mentally berating himself for once again breaking Mia's heart. The brief sweep of panic had caused him to change his mind. Did Mia need him? Before he could question her or take back the words he had uttered, Mia had quickly composed herself and gave him a strange smile. It was a fake, strained smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was then that he understood how she felt. He had delivered that same smile to everyone who ever asked him if he was alright after finding out that Hermione and him had broke up.

He wanted to reach out to Mia, but he couldn't. Could he?

Before he could think about it over, Mia had shut the door. It wasn't until he had turned around, walked out of the building, and apparated a block away from his flat that he realized the truth. Hermione was never going to come back to him and he had just broken Mia's heart just as badly as Hermione had broken his. He chewed his bottom lip, contemplating on if he should apparated back to Mia's when an explosion broke him out of his thoughts.

He looked up and realized that the explosion had blasted out his own flat's windows. The shattered glass sprayed over the street. All thoughts of Mia vanished from his mind as he rushed inside of his apartment building. He spied Harry and Ginny poking their head out from their front door, speaking in panicked voices. He didn't even stop to talk to them. Instead, he continued on until he skidded to a stop in front of the tattered remains of his front door.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes took in the disheveled sight of Hermione Granger. Her strained face streaked with tears. Her entire body shook as she stood in the middle of what remained of his living room.

"Hermione?" he gasped, causing her eyes to sharply shift to him. "What in the bloody hell—"

"You're a bloody liar!" she screamed, bounding up to him. "You are a loathsome, wicked, poor excuse for a bloody wizard! I hate you, Ronald Weasley! I bloody hate you with every fiber of my being! I will never forgive you ever for deceiving me, for making me love you, and bloody ruining me for all wizards and men!"

Her fist thumped against his chest as she rained down her tirade. Ron stood there, just frozen in shock. Where in the bloody hell was this coming from? As if coming to his senses, Ron grabbed her fists into his hands.

"Now just wait a moment-"

Once again, he was interrupted as she continued, "I will never forgive myself for loving you. I will never forgive you for weaseling into my life like some sort of bloody thief-"

"Thief? I'm the bloody thief in this scenario-"

"Yes! You!" she huffed, tearing one of her hands away from his grasp. She pointed her finger into his chest and jabbing him. "You daft, foolish, dense, and-"

"Bloody enough!" he grumbled. "You're the one that decided to come into my flat and wreck the bloody place! Now you're screaming insults at me! Bollocks, Hermione, is there anything in here that you haven't destroyed?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's only fair."

"Fair? How is this fair-"

"You destroyed me! It's only fair that I destroy everything that's yours."

"How is that even…" He trailed off, shaking his head. He looked around his place and groaned. You destroyed me! He raised an eyebrow as her words floated back into his mind. "How in the bloody hell did I destroy you? As I see it, you've done a mighty job at destroying everything – my heart, my life, my future… And now, my home. What could I have possible done to deserve any of this?" Frustrated, he squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. He murmured, "Maybe Mia is bloody right. This bloody has to stop."

The air began to heat up and sizzle around him. Ron frowned, opening his eyes as Hermione's energy began to build with her. Oh, Merlin, he thought to himself as he looked at her. She had her battle face on – all fierce, beautiful, and bloody furious… at him. He sighed. Always at him. He waited for her to explode. It was always a wonder to him, because he never knew what would burst first. It could be a battle of words, it could be a battle of magic, or it could be all out war. He loved it all. He bloody loved this woman, but she'd never understand.

"Avis!" she hissed. Ron's eyes widened, watching as a flock of birds materialized. They started swarming Hermione, circling her like a tornado.

"Her-Hermione," he warned. "Aren't you the one that always says we should talk things out civilly?"

"Oppugno!"

Bollocks! He knew this was going to hurt more than Sixth Year. The impact of the little blighters was nothing short of painful. He growled, batting the damned birds in haste, but they were growing to be too much. He fell to his knees. Even with the mass of birds swarming in on him, he still looked up to see the stony expression on Hermione's face. The iciness in those depths couldn't hide the pain..

"Hermione!"

Voices erupted from the hallway. Ron glanced over his shoulder to see Harry and Ginny rush into his flat.

"Hermione, stop!" Ginny gasped. "You're hurting him!"

After a moment or two, the birds vanished. Ron's eyes cracked open. He gritted his teeth, feeling sharp pain. Harry was in front of Hermione, wrapping his arms around her as she broke down in front of him. Ginny sighed then as she kneeled down and placed a hand on his back. Sympathetic brown eyes that was contrasted by arching eyebrows and sarcastic slant of her mouth.

"What in the bloody hell did you do, Ron?"

He groaned, shaking his head. "I didn't bloody do anything. I just came back to this."

"Well, did you say something to set her off?"

Ron's eyes zeroed in on his sister's eyes. The frustration and annoyance building up inside of him.

"She came at me with the insults!"

"Well, you must've said something-"

"Oh, I see," he huffed. "Everything is always my fault." He angled his head at Hermione. "So it isn't the person's fault that broke into my bloody flat, ransacked the place, and screaming insults? The same person might I add who just sent a flock of birds again right at me!"

"It's not her fault that you couldn't fight them off," Ginny scoffed, fighting back a smirk. Ron scowled at her. "Hey, you were a bloody Auror! What happened to your-"

He was about to tell Ginny to piss off when Hermione came roaring back to life. All bloody riled up with wild eyes to match her level of nutcase status. If it hadn't been for Harry, he was certain that she would've pounced on him. It caused him to jump to his feet, readying himself for defensive tactics. Ah, there's those Auror skills he buried! He rolled his eyes. Where were they moments ago when those bloody little pesks were believing that every part of him was a worm that needed to be captured and feed upon?

"You!" she growled, struggling against Harry's arms. "It is all your bloody fault that I'm like this!"

"See, I told you," Ginny muttered behind him.

Ron looked over his shoulder at his little sister. "Piss off."

"I saw you with her!" Hermione raged on. "I saw you with your ex – the blonde that you-"

"Mia," he clarified.

Ah, yes! The woman he could've been shagging senseless now if he actually used his sensibilities for once instead of standing before a ranting birdbrain of a best friend, who indeed lost her bloody mind. Look how wisely he had chosen! His eyes went to Hermione's face. Tears had made flowing rivers down her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She was a mess, looking at him like the world had ended and he was at fault for it.

Blimey, it was no contest. He would've still chosen her. He would've still been here in front of her, struggling to understand what he did wrong again.

"Yes! Her!" she cried out. "I heard everything, Ron!" Ron's eyes snapped to hers. "At the bar. You-You kissed her. I know the ultimatum. I know about the walk home. I know everything." Ron frowned. If she had known than why hadn't she deduced by now that he hadn't chosen Mia? He was about to open his mouth to question her, but the words that continued out of her mouth fueled the fire to his anger. "Was I that easy to forget, huh? Was it that easy to move on to her? You always did like the blond ones, blinded by their hair and beauty and not by their brains!"

His eyes narrowed then. "So what if I went back with her, Hermione? It's not like it changes anything with us! We," he paused, gesturing back and forth between both of them with his hands. "We are over. You have a steady boyfriend now. I don't know why you're bloody-"

"I don't have a boyfriend anymore!"

His eyes widened at that. His mouth dropped open. She didn't have a boyfriend anymore. When did that happen?

Hermione shook her head, laughing softly to herself. "It's sad, so sad," she whispered to herself. "So pathetic on my part to have thrown it all away. I broke up with Jeremiah, because I thought…" She trailed off for a moment. She took a deep breath as she broke away from Harry and turned her back away from all of them. "Ginny told me it was okay to be selfish about love and I was going to fight for you. I was going to just let us be… But I was too late. She had already…"

It was then that she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. It was almost like a light switch with how quickly she seem to shut off. The tension in the air seemed to break as she slowly looked around the place, taking inventory of the damage. Ron watched her carefully and saw the rational side of Hermione shining through. When he saw her eyes, he knew that she was 'back'. It wasn't until the wild, uncontrollable side of Hermione was gone that he realized something had slipped away – something monumental.

"I'm-I'm so sorry," she whispered. She looked right into his eyes. "I'm sorry."

She scrambled for her wand. With a quick swish of it and a murmured spell, all of them watched as everything was fixed and put back to place. Ron's eyes took it all in. Everything seemed back to normal, but it wasn't. He should've stopped her when she rushed passed him, but he didn't. He just stood, staring at his flat in awe. How in the bloody hell did that bloody witch create so much damage and make it all better in seconds?

"Uh, Ron," Harry called out to him. "You do realize that Hermione just…"

Ron just nodded.

"And she said she broke up with Jeremiah to be with you," Ginny piped in.

"I-I know."

"Then why are you still here?" Harry questioned.

Bloody Hell! Ron flew out his front door, taking off after Hermione. He only hoped that he reached her in time before she apparated.

* * *

Stupid. So bloody stupid.

Humiliated and ashamed, Hermione rushed outside, hoping that she could apparate home and put this all behind her. She had gambled and lost, leaving with her tail between her legs. It was hard to breathe as the pain swallowed her whole. She had lost control. Open wounds bled, gushing out for all the world to see.

Merlin, she made a spectacle of herself. Putting everything on the line like that, it was briefly a liberating experience until reality came crashing down.

It wasn't quite liberating when she unleashed the tragic darkness in her pain. It wasn't his fault that he had moved, was it? She had been careless with his heart. No matter how much logical his actions were, the pain sharply cut through her, shattering her into pieces. She looked down at her hands, watching her tears fall on her hands like visible pieces of her internal brokenness. She reached for the holy grail to come up shorthanded like she knew deep down she would all along.

She had only hoped. She blindly put faith that he loved her as strongly and intensely as she had, but he had proved to be more intelligent than others gave him credit for. He finally let go of the toxicity of their relationship. He had chosen the other girl – the more deserving one. She may have destroyed one of her longest friendships. From how Mia spoke of her, she wouldn't be surprised if she forced Ron not to see her anymore if this last blowout didn't cement the fate of their dead and dying friendship.

Good on him for finally doing right by him, she applauded silently, standing all by her lonesome. She wondered if following her heart was worthwhile. Was it worth all this humiliation, shame, and pain?

Yes, it was worth it. A thousands times yes.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she thought over the events of the night. No longer was she living a lie. No longer was she in a relationship that was born out of convenience and she had finally fought for him. Yes, it was too late, but she finally listened to that inner voice that had led her through thick and thin successfully during the darkest times of her life. It felt almost cathartic to lose something to gain something. The sacrifice was bittersweet, but she had to think positively before another onslaught of her tears rained over her. She could lick her wounds in the privacy of her home where nobody witness her once again breakdown.

"Time to go," she decided finally.

In the midst of apparating, the door swung open, causing her to turn to find the redhead in question flying out. She braced herself, waiting for him to barrel right into her. She gasped, feeling the wind get knocked out of her. Her body sailed backwards as a familiar rush of air surrounded her. When her body met the ground, she grunted upon impact as the heaviness of another body soon followed. She gazed up into Ron's grimacing face and her eyes widened in horror over the possibility that he may have been splinched.

"Are you hurt?" she rushed out her question, gently pushing him to the side. Her eyes quickly swept over his body as she searched for wounds. "I have a bottle of-"

He grabbed her as she attempted to get up. "No, no. I'm fine."

"Are you certain?" she asked, scanning over him apprehensively. When he nodded his head, she shook head. "Ron, that-that was too close. You could've really gotten hurt. Come on, I'll… I'll make you a spot of tea before you… head off."

She wasn't foolish enough or naive enough to believe that he was rushing off after her. He did have someone to rush to, to love, to hold, and to be with, didn't he? Startled, she watched as Ron's eyes met hers. There was a storm brewing in them that seemed to quickly turn calm and collected. It made her question if she saw the intensity in them.

"Tea, you say?" he asked thickly.

She nodded slowly. "Yes… Before you… Before you head back..." She bit her bottom lip, wondering if Ron would take up her attempt of an olive branch. A bubble of panic rose within her when his eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her like she was criminal. Her heart constricted at the memory of herself ransacking his place. Oh, yes, that could be why. She cleared the throat, bowing her head. "Give you some time collect yourself and then you… you can head to wherever you needed to go next."

Next meaning Mia, she thought to herself, but she had no desire to voice it and she had no desire to hear what she already knew.

"Right. Tea before I head back."

She forced a bright smile on her face as she offered him her hand. She took it cautiously and she couldn't fault him. Moments before, she was a stark raving lunatic that trashed his entire flat and sent a flock of bird at him… again. She sighed, bowing her head to hide her face. She didn't want him to always see her as a nuisance, a bother… a thorn in his side. She felt like it was First Year all over again. After overhearing his cruel words, she had found hope forging a friendship with him after he and Harry saved her from the troll. She wanted prove to him she like that. That fear he had only became friends with her out of guilt stayed with her, even after all this time.

It had been years since then. She had proved to be a loyal friend and so had he. Certainly, they all, Harry included, had their ups, down, and rough patches, but the foundation had to have grown more than just guilt. Could she be strong she strong enough to watch him again be happy? Could watch him love someone else?

She guessed it wasn't about 'could' anymore. It was more that could or would he be her friend after so much _bad_.

She made them two cups of tea and was sitting across him, attempting to find words to say to him. Words that wouldn't cause him to runaway. Words that conveyed intent and purpose. These words just rolled around her mind, twisting knots up in her gut. Nausea pitched as if she suffered from mental motion sickness. That dreaded bubble of hysterical panic kept spiking along with how fast her heartbeats raced. Seconds ticked away and Hermione visualized the descent of each pebble of sand falling symbolizing wasted time. Yet it reminded silent even though she was screaming inside herself, nursing her bloody tea right across the stupid table until he grimaced and put down his cup roughly.

"Merlin, this isn't..." He shook his head. Hermione raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, but he continued. "This is just ridiculous. Hermione, you do realize that I ran outside after you, right?"

Startled, Heremione's eyes widened at that confession. Did she hear that correctly? "I-I honestly didn't think you had any wish to see me after… after, well, _that_ ," she whispered. "I thought you got in the crosshair when I was-"

"Hermione."

He sighed then.

The way he said her name made her flush in embarrassment. It was how he would say it that made her feel like a lost cause. She got up from the chair abruptly with her cup in hand. Shaking as she deposited her cup in the sink, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. It had been a long, long night and sleep would help with clarity. All that bravado of following her heart got stuck in her throat.

Merlin, she wanted to turn around, beg for forgiveness and plead for a second chance. What she really wanted to say… she wanted to spill out over him, overwhelm him, and fluster him. She wanted that chance to fight for him before Mia floated back gracefully into his life. Yes, the beautiful blond waiting for him as she became tangled in her desires, wishful hopes and dreams, and all those unsaid words in between.

Mia… Mia… the Mia that Ron confirmed was his. Mia, who will be cherished. Mia, who will be loved. Tangled limbs. Sweet kisses, sweet embraces. Sleepness nights between the sheets. Naked. Possessiveness burning his eyes as he sweeps his hands deep into her hand. Tender caresses against soft skin. Gentle kisses turning into stronger and deeper, more intrusive ones that explored the shadow self on display. Toes curling. Breathy whispers of each other's name. Hermione shut her eyes, attempting to block out the images.

No, sleep wouldn't give way to clarity when the truth echoed in her envious mind and heart. She was escaping to lick her wounds and prolonging the inevitable would leave her dancing between fantasy and harsh reality. This inevitability that Ron would leave as he should would be the only outcome.

"I'm-I'm going to take a bath," she murmured, blinking back her tears. "You should leave. Go to her. Be with her."

Coward that she was, she couldn't bring herself to bid him goodnight, knowing tears were already falling down her cheeks. When she attempted to leave, she heard the chair scrape against the floor. He blocked her path and she forced herself to look up. His blue eyes burned into hers and she shifted nervously at the intensity of the look.

"Ron," she begged.

"Running away from this isn't going to solve anything."

Tears continued to fall freely. "I'm not running away. You-You already chose her."

He lifted his hand. With his thumb, he brushed her tears away. She tried to not melt under his gentle touch, but the feel of his skin against hers caused her breath to hitch. She shivered. Her traitorous body just giving all her secrets away as her lip parted. Shut it out, she instructed, telling herself to shift away from him, but she found herself melting against his light touch.

"I didn't," he insisted softly.

That voice brought her out of her reverie, forcing her to focus on his simple words. "You did." She stepped back, shaking her head. It was for the best not to get caught up in his words, his touch, her desires, and her emotions. Fingers curled into fist. Nails bit into her flesh, letting the pain ground her. "I know you did. She's everything you could ever want. She goes to your Quidditch games. She knows how to have fun. She can make you smile. She gets along with your family. She-She makes you happy." Sucking in a breath, she looked away, shattering like glass as it hits the hard surface of reality. The chill of it make it difficult to breathe as she attempts to choke out the words but she manages. "She doesn't have melodramatic outbursts. She's not afraid to say how she feels about you. She won't neglect you for books, work, and whatnot. She probably won't take forever at a bookstore… And-And she won't destroy your flat."

He chuckled, causing her eyes to lift. She drank in the sight of him, but she swallowed down the lump in throat as he fixed her with a long look. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched slightly before a hard line formed. When he pressed into her, she countered instinctively, but he wouldn't allow an inch as he continued to crowd her.

"You're right," he told her, distracting her momentarily as she backed into the counter. She swallowed when he put both hands on either side of her, resting his hands against the edge. "She also probably won't have a cat that tried to kill my pet rat. She won't raise her hand in the middle of the classroom eager to answer a question. She won't hassle and nag me to do things. She probably won't start a pro-House Elves agenda." He paused before a wicked smirk kicked up the corner of his mouth. Bowing his head and leaning down slightly, Hermione could only gaze up at him, watching as his eyes sweep over her body. "And she won't amass a swarm of birds to eat me alive… again."

She flushed. Her skin prickled from his deliberate scan. The heat from… what? Embarrassment? Humiliation? Shame? Or possibly something altogether as his eyes seemed to travel elsewhere but her face.

"Yes… About that..."

His eyes lifted finally to mischievously peer into her eyes.

"You're sorry?" he suggested.

The sparkle in his eyes caused a fire to burn inside of her. An anger that he was toying with her and how wrong he was to be toying with her and Mia's feelings. An anger at herself for how easily she was getting mesmerized with how soft his mouth looked only inches from hers. When he licked his lips, she bit her lip, squeezing herself back against the hard edge of the counter. Bloody hell, pain was supposed to keep her grounded! But it was pain that was rooting her to this exact moment, waiting upon something. The feverish need twisting up within her, tormenting her as he drew closer.

Eyes rooted to his mouth, she nodded, swallowing hard. "It-It proves that we are completely incompatible for each other."

To her paralyzing horror, fear, defeat, anger, and humiliation, he stepped back then as if to take deep consideration to her assessment. Tears prickled the back of her eyelids. Frustration and hunger caused a waging battle within her as she wanted to reach out to him and yank him to her, but the other part of her wanted to shove him away and tell him to run far away from her. Her eyes locked unto his mouth and she wanted to taste his kiss.

A goodbye kiss wouldn't be out of the question, right?

"You're right," he agreed finally. Icy devastation drowned her and she knew that it was all over her face. She couldn't disguise the exquisite pain that exploded within her chest. She took a deep breath. This nightmarish rollercoaster ride pitched her to and fro like a rag doll tossed aside as if she wasn't made of blood, bone, muscles, heart, and soul. "We are complete opposites, Hermione. I've known for quite awhile. I may be daft and bit dense, but _that_ I always knew."

She had to have imagined that he wanted to kiss. She had to have imagined that he had actually cared. In her wildest, foolish, childish, and fanciful emotions, she had dreamed that he wanted her… even though he had a blond beauty, waiting in all her grace and elegance. Biting her bottom lip to ebb the burning in her face, in her eyes, and her body, she willed herself not to breakdown. She pressed her hands against his chest, attempting to push him away. It was halfhearted and was met with resistance, but she let her greedy fingertips quest across his chest, just touching the fabric of his shirt.

"You know all of this," she murmured, dealing with the sting of his confession and the incessant, inconsiderate, and ill-conceived _want_ blinding her with the feel of hard muscle beneath her fingertips. She felt his sharp intake of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest, and muscles contracting mysteriously. Wide-eyed, she wanted to know more, feel more, just touch _more_... She hissed, squeezing her eyes shut as she wrenched her hands away from. _Stop it. Stop it._ Turning away, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if she was locking herself in place. "Why are you here? What could you possibly gain from coming here? Coming after me?"

Merlin, here come the tears! Frustrated, she shoved her hands against him, trying to break away from this. She needed to hide away, recover, and… possibly loads of therapy. Dying to give into her baser instincts and just completely throw her dignity to the birds, she wanted to feel what it was like to be worshiped by him, cherished by him… and her chance was fading into oblivious. Disgusted by the fact that she would and still would, she needed distance from him.

Her plea of self-preservation was brought to a halt as he encased both of her wrists in his hands, tugging her forward until there was barely space between. Harsh, deep breathing was rising and falling between them in unison. Their eyes burned into the other. Locked in a battle of wills, none backed down.

Then she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep cleansing breath. It took just his name to bring a response.

"Because it's always been you," he rasped, snaking an arm around her. "It never stopped being you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her, burying his fingers deep into her hair as he cupped the back of her head. His mouth pressed against hers, teasing her with a brief kiss. Her eyes popped open at the contact. Once again, she attempted to speak, but he shushed her as his mouth dipped down, capturing her lips with his. As he kept caressing her lips with light, teasing kisses until she felt a shift in heat and intensity. His tongue danced with hers and she forgot to breathe. She forgot to resist. She allowed herself to feel.

She felt the fire, twisting flames building, igniting, billowing, and meshing.

For once, she coaxed it to burn and consume.

* * *

 **Okay... So maybe there's just one more part to this.**


	6. VI Picking Up The Pieces

**One Last Time**  
 **VI. Picking Up The Pieces**

Bollocks.

His eyes squeezed shut.

Breathing was supposed to be easy, he mused, but as she tangled her fingers in his hair, he realized breathing didn't come as naturally as it should. No, no, not when the softness of her chest crowded against him. Air just became to thick to breathe, to swallow... and he was drowning in this. He was suffocating.

And bloody hell, he wanted her.

He wanted her everywhere, to be everywhere... over her, under her, surrounding her, and inside her. He just wanted to delve his own fingers into her wild locks, make a fist and yank her forward as if he was frightened that this may be a dream. He wanted to take hold of her and this dream, because this just had to be a dream.

He bit his lip and his breath hitched.

Those fingers of hers slid from his hair and trailed down over the muscle of his bicep. As she tried to _breathe_ , he couldn't allow it. No, he wouldn't allow her to even think, much less breathe. He wanted her to give into the desire. He wanted her to be wild with it. He loved her mind, her soul, and her body. He wanted it all. He wanted everything with no barriers parting them with secrets and insecurities.

But he wanted her permission. A stolen kiss was much, much different than stealing one's entire soul and body.

When it came, he took what she offered. The way she inched back a bit so her fingers could curl into his shirt, he knew she wanted it just as bad as he did. The quickness that she rid him of his shirt told him just that. The way her hands explored the naked expanse of his bared torso. But when her fingers toyed with the button of his pants, he grabbed her hands. He pressed kisses to her knuckles before he captured her mouth with his.

"Off," he whispered in her ear, tugging at her own shirt.

Soon the panic was back in them and he wouldn't allow that to continue.

"I want to see you. All of you."

Crimson heated her cheeks and he could tell she was about to protest.

"It's only fair," he teased, coaxing her with a gentle kiss on her neck.

The sharp intake of breath before it puffed out against his skin. Both of them shivered at the lightness of skin and air. Lips moved, sliding over prickled skin. He couldn't stop himself from tasting the saltiness of iy. Merlin, he wanted to eat her whole. He wanted her against – No! Slow down. Just slow down. He sighed, backing away a moment. He let his hands meander down the length of her body until the light shivering resonated with the fast beats of her heart.

It was her turn to squeeze her eyes shut.

"B-Bloody hell," she stammered.

Chuckling to himself, he slid an arm around her hips. "I thought you were perfectly capable of taking off your shirt, but if you need help, I'll be happy to help you."

An impish smile crossed that lush mouth of hers as her warm chocolate eyes met his. Once again, his breath caught for the thousandth time that night. He had already lost count already with how many times this woman could make him lose his mind.

"Oh, I don't know," she whispered. "I may need some instruction on how to take off my shirt... for educational value, of course."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Educational value, hm?"

She hesitated for a moment. There was a moment of confusion slicing through the haze of sexual tension. Bloody hell, don't let that be cold water to this heat. He chewed his bottom lip, standing still shirtless and his pants unbuttoned. He groaned. He should have just ripped the bloody shirt off of her.

When she lifted her eyes to study his face and his eyes, he forced himself not to show his disappointment. There she was before him. The clearness in her eyes – no longer dazed or dizzy from the passion or heat. There was that studious, curious, and fiercely clever best friend just staring right into him, burning into his eyes. Like a moth to flame, he would always be here, getting doused with his metaphorical cold shower, because he knew that look.

She was itching for a long talk.

He lost the battle of not showing his disappointment. He sighed then, looking around for his thrown shirt.

"What're you doing?"

The question came as he was stooping down to scoop up his shirt. His eyes drifted to Hermione then.

"I'm getting dressed."

"But why?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"So we can talk. I know that look."

She reached, grabbing the shirt in his hands. "I don't want to talk, Ron."

A small smile teased the corners of her mouth. She tossed the shirt unto the floor. Biting her bottom lip as her fingers dragged the material of her shirt over her body. Ron tried to swallow. He really did, but the thick lump in his throat refused to be swallowed down. His tongue felt swollen and thick. His throat parched. His eyes took in the lightness of her skin.

"Ron," she whispered, letting her fingers glide down his arm. "Show me. Instruct me."

"Instruct you?"

"To let go." She bit her lip. "To lose control. To not think."

His eyes flicked to her. "Are you sure?"

He waited a moment.

Silence continued.

Chocolate eyes melted into baby blues.

"I trust you."

There it was.

Permission.

Exactly what he had been looking for.

If it wasn't the words that convinced him, the way she threw her body against him was. The way she melted into him, tangling her tongue against his. The way her fingers and hands traveled across his skin. Soon, his fingers found and touched the smoothness of her skin. She was in his bloody veins, pumping through them. An addiction that he couldn't quench and couldn't get rid of no matter if he was best for him or not.

This deep ache within him started to build, burning within him, through him, and surrounding him. Clothes strewn chaotically across the floor. Skin melded against the other. The heat of her against him, warming him, and warning him that this was all too real. This was not a dream. This was definitely not a dream as he parted her thighs and slid into the fire.

Not a dream as he swallowed her moans into kisses.

Not a dream as she shivered, beginning to unravel and come apart.

Not a dream as her eyes burned into his when she arched up against him. Muscles taught. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her fingernails bite into the flesh of his shoulder blades. Sweat dripped off their skin. He eased her back against the bed, letting her come down from her feverish high before he took her once again to paradise. Because she was better than a dream. They were better than any fantasy and he was going to imprint that in her bloody brain.

He didn't miss the slight panic washing over her face. He didn't miss a different type of tension in her body as her eyes fluttered open again to meet his. He leaned down, kissing her mouth before a small smile came to his lips.

"There are many ways to paradise," he whispered in her ear. "I'm going to teach you all the roads to get there thoroughly. What kind of teacher would I be if I let you charm me that easily?" He relished her shiver as he pressed his mouth against her neck. "I know you're a perfect student. Attentive and studious. You'll want to perfect everything to pass the ultimate test, because you're not one to go halfway in on your studies, are you?"

"No, no, of course not. You know I love throwing myself into my studies."

He smirked at her words.

"Mm, good. Exactly what I wanted to hear," he purred, licking a path down her neck. "Because we're not done. Not even close. Are you ready for your next lesson?"

Her eyes lit up. "Always."

* * *

The delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen awoke her. Hermione's eyes drifted open, becoming aware of the aches and pains in her body. She groaned as she stretched. No matter her movement, she was met with the same soreness. A smile teased the corners of her mouth, knowing why she felt this way. The extracurricular activities of last night replayed in her mind and she couldn't help that feeling of anticipation mounting. The pressure between her thighs only reminded her of that stirring desire but of also that remaining soreness.

The slight pain was worth every single moment, she mused, before forcing herself to shift out of bed. She snatched her robe and quickly wrapped herself in it. She tied off the sash as she made her way into her kitchen.

There he was, hovering over the stove in the pair of pajamas pants she had stolen from him months ago. He had learned last night that she had stolen a whole mound of his clothes when they had broken up. Last night had been about them – reconnecting and discovering. They had made love and talked. It was well past sunrise when the exhaustion finally won out. From how the sun was dipping down in the sky, she guessed it was late afternoon, as she spotted the sun out of her kitchen window.

Her eyes traveled down his bare torso. His back toned and rippled with muscle. His training from being an Aurora and playing Quidditch had given him a body that most women drooled over. She wasn't above drooling as she watched his muscles contract as he moved. She wasn't above feeling of those butterflies that flit around her stomach. It had never been about finding Ron attractive, because they had grown up together and she had witnessed his changes over the years. However, she had been convinced that he hadn't seen the changes in her.

It was okay. It was okay to be sexually attracted to him. It was okay to want him, to get off thinking about him... and apparently on him. The way he smiled at her when her body betrayed her to him only caused the need to burn more within her. The flames never died. He only stoked the logs and caused the embers to ignite. He taught her it was okay to want him as much as she did and get off on it. He caused her to burn.

She just hoped that she caused him to burn. Worrying her bottom lip, she pondered over the anxieties building in her mind. Did he get off more with Mia? Did she please him more? Now that he had been with her fully, she wondered if she lived up to what he desired. Would he end up thinking he made a mistake? Was he thinking of her at all last night?

"What are you thinking about?"

Ron's voice broke through her thoughts. She hadn't known how long she had been standing there, watching him as her thoughts consumed her. She felt her cheeks burning and she knew she was blushing.

"Nothing," she whispered, slipping into a seat at the kitchen table.

She couldn't quite meet his eyes. She cursed her body for betraying her as her hand shook as she poured herself a cup of tea. She really couldn't meet his eyes now as she continued to prep her tea. If he planned to call her out on it, he must have reconsidered it. He turned back to making the food. When he had set down the eggs and pancakes, she realized how much she had missed him cooking. She missed waking up to the smell and the vision of him cooking.

As she took a piece of toast from the pile of buttered toast on the plate near the plate of pancakes, she realized how much he took after Molly with cooking. Molly. She cringed, remembering how much Molly liked Mia. His entire family loved her, because she breathed life back into him. She could only imagine how much they would react when they caught wind of this. How mad would they be if her slip up caused Ron's happiness?

"Hermione," Ron called out to her, causing her to realize that she had once again slipped into her thoughts.

Her heart clenched as her eyes met his.

Merlin, she still wanted him.

Again.

She pressed her legs together until the inside of her thighs squeezed against the other. He had made her into a wanton fool. Licking her lips, she swallowed thickly, berating herself. She was literally at war with herself. Emotionally and mentally, she knew she was lying to herself that she didn't want what her body wanted.

Tears filled her eyes. Confusion was building within her. Would he have been happier if he was with Mia right now? Sitting and eating at the kitchen table after making love to her all night, would he have been happier with her? Did she make him burn more? Was she a better fit?

Before she could stop herself, she voiced the torment eating at her. "Would you rather be with her right now?"

Frozen, he paused, looking down at his plate of food. When she was only met with silence, her heart and stomach dropped. She sucked in a breath. The pain spliced through her, shattering and bursting through her like shards of broken glass.

"Of course you would," she whispered, defeated. "I'm-I'm sorry. I'm sure if you-if you go to her that she'll forgive you and-"

Blue eyes locked unto hers. "How can you even think that?"

She went to stand when he reached across the table to grab her hand, preventing her from leaving the table.

"How can you think that after last night that there's anyone but you?" he questioned, shaking his head.

When she opened her mouth to speak, she couldn't find her voice. He tugged her around the table by their joined hands until she found herself falling into his lap and being folded into his arms. His strong arms slid around her waist, cradling her body against his. She let her body sway as he rocked her slightly back and forth. Shutting her eyes as he pressed a kiss against her exposed shoulder, her emotions won out, bubbling over as tears slid down her cheeks.

In a world that praised the strong, she had believed that if she had just shut out her pains and cares that they would remain buried. She had fought so hard to be the best, because deep inside, she believed that she wasn't good enough. Although, she had proved time and time again that blood had nothing to do with one's greatness or brilliance or aptitude. Bloody hell, she had fought with both Harry and Ron to take down the blood purist movement along with their deadly figurehead, but she wasn't immune to the insults. She hadn't been immune to the sting of their acidic opinions.

"Hermione." Her name was whispered against her shoulder. She tensed, knowing the pressure of her words would cause her to barriers to dissolve. Just as they had last night in his arms, he had broken through to her. "Hermione, you trusted me last night to help you lose control to the feeling, right? To not think. To feel."

She nodded. "Mm'hm."

She felt his lips skim over the back of neck. "I'm not perfect. I'm going to be just as bloody thick and dense as the day before. I'm not going to miraculously know what you're feeling-"

Hermione frowned at his words. Here she was belittling herself when Ron was voicing his own weaknesses. She shifted, looking over her shoulder at him. "Ron-"

"Listen," he pleaded. "Please, just listen. One of the reasons why it didn't work out in the first place is that we didn't listen to each other. We didn't actually listen and talk to each other." His eyes gazed deeply into her eyes. "I want that. I want us to be more open with each other, because this side of you is more scary than seeing you when you're bloody bat crazy mad. I'm not used to seeing this vulnerable and insecure side. All I've ever seen is this confident and wise witch, who never once second guessed herself."

Her heart clenched at that. Nervously, she licked her lips, tearing her eyes away from his as she looked forward. She took a deep breath. Trust. In. Him. She squeezed her eyes shut to calm her nerves, attempting to find the words to communicate. That was her problem, she realized, that she used words to communicate... to educate. She didn't use them to show how she felt.

"I've always felt I lacked." Her voice cracked as she forced out the words from her heart. "All I ever had was my words... my brain. My convictions. My passions. When I was younger before Hogwarts, I-I wasn't accepted... so when I came to Hogwarts, I thought it would be different. I thought I would be readily accepted, because we were all the same." She shuddered, feeling Ron's fingers tracing patterns down her arm. "But little did I know about bloody purity. Little did I know that others wouldn't accept me as readily as I hoped." She took a deep breath then. "Do you know how much it meant to me when you and Harry finally let me into your lives? I didn't-I didn't just have my studies anymore. I had friends who wanted me around. But that feeling of being unwanted and alone, it always stayed and I was scared that one day both of you would see me as they all saw me. My use would dry up and you'd leave."

Ron's body tensed at that. "Hermione-"

"I can't change who I am," she told him. "This is who I am. I'm still that stuffy, know-it-all best friend, who raises their hand the moment a professor asks a question. I like structure and rules... provided that it doesn't go against my moral code. I'm never going to be one of those girls that will get all pretty for some social event. I will never be flashy. I will probably never make you laugh as hard and as much as Mia did. I'm a dictionary. I'm a history book. I'm informative and I'd do anything I could possibly do if it's the right thing to do, whether it be standing by myself for a cause or standing side by side by the people I love in a war. I'd do anything I could to make certain the people that I love will be happy and safe-"

"And that's why I love you," he whispered in her ear. She inhaled sharply. "That's why I stick around. That's why I want to be around you even if we don't meet eye to eye on things." He paused, chuckling for a moment. "Okay, even if we don't bloody meet eye to eye on most things. It's the fact that you are different from me that makes me stay, rooted right here. Bloody hell, I want to be here, because you know bloody way more interesting things than I do. It took me a long time to understand what beautiful actually means, but you helped me see that. You challenge me every day to see things differently. I don't know many people that do that for me."

Once again, Hermione looked over her shoulder, searching his eyes to see the sincerity in them. She could feel the trickle of her tears, brushing over her skin. She knew she looked a mess, but she had to look into those eyes. She couldn't trust just words. What she saw was the blazing truth in them. He wasn't even seeing her anymore. It was as if he was off in his own dreamworld, his own mind... his own heart. A smile broke through the gloom as she turned more to cup the side of his face. Shocking both herself and him, she followed her heart and kissed him.

When his eyes focused on hers, she gave him another chaste kiss before breathing out another truth. "I love you, Ron," she declared confidently. A huge smile drifted unto his face. "I can't promise it'll be easier now."

"Only a fool would think this will get easier," he teased, kissing her cheek. He embraced her, holding her tightly in his arms.

"But we can try. We can try again. Try to be better, try to understand, try to feel, try to open up more, and try let go more."

"All that matters is that we are going to try. That's all I ask is if we try." There was this mischievous twinkle in his eyes and she knew that whatever he was going to say was going to make her roll her eyes. Inwardly, she knew she'd laugh. She'd probably want to laugh aloud, but the persona she always wore demanded her to be prim and proper. So when his teasing, ill-timed remarks came, she wasn't surprised. "I'm glad we are on the same page now, Hermione. Really I am.. but can we be on the same page eating?"

Instead of tossing out a critical statement, she just smirked as she reached down to grab a pancake. She relished the look if shock as she plastered the pancake over his face. She watched as it fall from his still shocked face and fall into his lap. She leaned over, noticing there was a nice coating of syrup on his face. She kissed his cheek then licked it, tasting the sweetness of it.

"Yum," she said brightly. "Yes, you're right. Definitely on the same page."

A devious look crossed his face. "Oh, darling, you're bloody going to get it."

Before she could react, Ron grabbed the bowl of scrambled eggs and proceeded to empty it over her head. Instinctively, she reached for a pitcher of orange juice in the center of the table as he attempted to reach around her. Their breakfast was soon covering them and they found themselves sprawled out in the middle of the forth after their impromptu food fight. Hermione chuckled before bursting out laughing as her eyes surveyed the damage they created. She barely heard Ron laughing just as hard in the background, but from the corner of her eye, she watched him shift where he lay on her kitchen floor. That's when she noticed him laughing like he had when he was with Mia. Her heart thumped in her chest as she watched as he rolled to his side to look at her.

"I look absolutely horrible, don't I?"

He grinned. "You're beautiful."

Her eyes widened slightly at that. She was about to refute it, but she just smiled. She may not look beautiful, but she realized that she felt beautiful. The way he was looking her. This fantastic rush of emotional euphoria made this moment beautiful. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to roll over, pounce on him, and just kiss him. That's when she realized that's what Ron had taught her to go with what she was feeling. It couldn't hurt to follow her heart. It did, in fact, lead her to Ron.

She gave in, sealing their promise of trying with a kiss.

* * *

 **Fin. :)**


End file.
